Cold Mountain
by DragonRidingSorceress
Summary: One year after the formation of the Empire, Vader has a prophetic dream... very similar to the ones he had of Padme dying in childbirth. Inspired by Natalie Portman’s appearance in ‘Cold Mountain’.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Cold Mountain

Summary: One year after the formation of the Empire, Vader has a prophetic dream... very similar to the ones he had of Padme dying in childbirth.

Explanation: Inspired by Natalie Portman's appearance in 'Cold Mountain'.

A/N: If anyone can give me a better title, I'll change it.

* * *

Chapter 1

_He could hear her screams. He could hear the pain and fear in her voice. But he could not see; his vision was obscured._

_Her cries were joined by the wails of an infant. It was a sound of helplessness, and his whole being ached to respond... but he could not. The darkness that clouded his vision lay heavy on his limbs; he could not move._

_She screamed again, wordlessly. And yet words formed wi__thin his mind,_

Ani, help me!

* * *

Darth Vader jolted awake, the desperate cry ringing in his ears. It had been a year since he assumed the mantle of Sith Lord; it had been several nights since his last nightmare.

But this dream did not have the same aspect as his nightmares. No, this was more like...

_More like his dreams from before._

Dreams of his mother's pain; dreams of _**her **death._

But she was dead; his Master had told him so. _It seems, in your anger, you killed her._

The part of his being that belonged to her was also dead. He reached once more for the place in his mind, in his heart, that had been their Bond – cursing himself even as he did so for his weakness, but he could not bear to give **her **part over to the darkness, not his angel – expecting only the silence, the nothingness.

But that was not what he found.

He felt a pulse, a stirring – a hope. _She is alive._ For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think her name. _My Padme is alive._

She was far away; a galaxy away. But that did not matter to Vader. He was filled with elation. _I will find her. No matter what._

He did not allow his thoughts to dwell on his dream, to speculate what it could mean.

Reaching out, his fingers lit on the control panel within the hyperbaric chamber. With deft motions that belied the size and bulk of his mechanical arms, he called a holographic galaxy into existence around him.

Keeping his fingers on the controls, he reached out to the pulse that offered him hope. Slipping into meditation, he let the Force guide his keystrokes as he worked to pinpoint his angel.

* * *

Vader strode down a dirty, dingy street on a dirty, dingy planet.

Padme's cries had haunted him as the Exactor made its way to Ord Mantell.

Now he travelled alone, following the swirling current of the Force.

Vader could never be considered inconspicuous. There was no way for him to 'blend in'. So instead, he fell back on a trick he had learned as a Jedi Padawan. Drawing the Force around himself, he simply deflected the attentions of all he encountered. Passers-by were conscious of a tall, dark being. But their minds did not register that it was Darth Vader who passed. Instead, their consciousnesses filled in a more comfortable, and less remarkable, image.

It did not occur to him that he could have travelled without cloaking his presence, for who would dare to question Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith and Right Hand of the Emperor?

Vader was still some distance from the glowing presence of his Angel when he was bombarded by emotions. Anxiety and fear dominated. For a moment, he thought they were his. Then he realised – _Padme!_

Breaking into a run, he sped towards his destination.

He was passing through what appeared to be slums. However, as far as he could tell, the whole city was composed of slums.

A thought occurred to him on his purpose-filled dash, but it was one that he did not have time to consider. _What in the galaxy is Padme doing in a place like this?_

Somewhere, on the edge of his consciousness, he sensed emotions from another being, growing stronger as he approached. But he had no time to consider this as he charged onwards.

Finally, he reached a stooped old shack. _Padme is here,_ he knew with certainty. Pain had joined the emotions he felt from her.

The shack had its back to him, its shoulders slumped, as if desperately grasping at the percieved protection of defenselessness. Padme's presence he could sense at the front of the house. His auditory sensors were now picking up the sound of Padme's voice, raised in cries of pain, pleading. He could almost hear another noise, too; another voice.

_I am coming._

There was a door, deadlocked, stiff-hinged and double-bolted. It flew inwards at his thought, giving way with a cleaving of wood and a sundering of metal. Some deep, cautious part of him cried warning, and he deadened the complaining sounds with the Force.

The occupants of the single-room shanty paid no heed to his dramatic entrance. Their attention was otherwise engaged.

Padme was pressed onto the bed that, along with a heating unit, served to furnish the room. Above her, leaning his weight on her roughly, was an unkempt man dressed in a mockery of a military uniform. Padme's voice was shrill with pain, as the man's teeth tore into the soft skin of her shoulder.

Almost simultaneous to Vader's entrance, the 'front' door slammed open. In swaggered a second man, his harsh voice calling out, "C'mon Sarge, leave some for us!" Spotting Vader, he froze in his tracks. Before he had time for any sort of reaction, he was dead, a crimson blade fountaining through his back. Padme's assailant met an identical fate, flung violently from his conquest by an invisible hand. He hit the wall with an audible and sickening crunch.

Padme's mind was screaming, and Vader could hear it. One loud thought dominated all: _LEIA!!_ The second noise now came into focus – the wails of a clearly unhappy infant.

In a stride, Vader was through the gaping doorway, standing between the roof overhang and the rectangle of dirt that claimed itself a patio. A baby lay on the ground a short distance away, unswaddled. The third, and apparently final man of the ruffians stood hesitantly over the child, confusion and compassion in his eyes.

A tug of the Force, and the infant was in Vader's arms. Within an instant, he **knew**, _This is my child._ He stared down at the sweet, innocent face, red from crying, but now calm as Leia lay cradled in his arms.

The man – a mere boy, really – stared. He was wide-eyed and open-mouthed, petrified by the sight of Vader's ominous, armour-clad figure. And Vader found that, somehow, he could not kill the youth. Not with the same hands that nursed his daughter.

Footsteps announced Padme's appearance at his side. Her body thrummed with rage as she stepped through the doorway, blaster clutched in her hand. Vader felt her anger spike as her gaze fell on the mock militant.

"He is yours," he told her, with the air of one giving a gift.

A swift glance at Vader reassured Padme that Leia was out of the way. Then she returned her glare full-force to the hapless, still-paralysed boy. Slowly, with the air of one claiming what they are due, she raised the blaster, sighted along its muzzle, and fired.

A single, clean shot to the head, and he fell. He paid the price for aligning himself with the unscrupulous.

Vader's full attention was focussed on his new-found daughter. He stared at her, in awe of the tiny beauty that snuggled against him. But something was not right.

He was no healer, but even he could sense that the child was unwell. He washed bright waves of the Force over his daughter. It did little to combat the disease, but it warmed and soothed her.

"She's ill."

Vader looked up from the miracle in his embrace. His Angel was there before him, alive when he had thought her dead. Bruises were already forming, stark against her pale skin. Blood oozed from her gashed forehead and ravaged shoulder. Hair and clothes alike were dishevelled, her skirt – donned in an attempt at camouflage – twisted and caught up. She stared at him with desperation and distrust in her gaze.

"Did they... did he...?" A gesture at the hut sufficed to finish his question. After a second's hesitation, she shook her head, taking a moment to feel gratitude. If **he **hadn't come when he did, she shuddered to think what would have happened.

"Thank you," she murmured with a shudder.

But he was still a Sith.

She held her hands out, wordlessly requesting her daughter's return. Vader hesitated visibly, then stepped minutely closer. Leia fussed as she was shifted between her parents, but a soft stroke of her dark downy hair, and a soothing thought from her father, was all that was required to settle her.

Padme looked up, staring at the dark visor before her eyes. She and Vader were standing close, Leia nestled between them. Vader was absorbed by Leia, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from her, his huge gloved hand still cradling her tiny head.

"Come with me." When Vader finally spoke, his voice was as soft as his vocabulator would allow. The tone of his voice was ambiguous – somewhere, Padme thought, between a request and an order. With perhaps a touch of hope. She wavered – he had saved her, had once love her... the image of her Ani's joyous face at the news of impending fatherhood leapt to her mind – but he was still a Sith.

"My ship has the medical facilities that you and Leia both need." Leia's name rolled from his tongue beautifully. Vader felt as though he caressed the syllables as he spoke them. It was perfect, he decided, for the Little Angel.

It was Leia who decided Padme. She looked down at her daughter, frail and helpless, and knew that she would do anything to get Leia the medical attention she needed.

And here **he **was, desperate to give it to her.

Silently, she nodded, eyes still fixed on the living porcelain of her daughter's dozing face.

Vader's strong, leather-clad arms swept her up. She startled at his touch. He spoke as gently as he could manage. "We will travel faster this way."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Cold Mountain**_

_**Chapter 2**_

From the moment he had found out Padme was still alive, Vader had acted on instinct. And he had not snapped out of it until he had been greeted by the stunned expressions of his pilots upon his return to the shuttle.

They had asked no questions – they knew better. Yet Vader could sense the curiosity that burned within them. He knew that as soon as they docked, the sole topic of conversation in all Rec Rooms would be the woman and child _Vader himself _had _carried _to his shuttle.

Still, it had felt so good to hold her in his arms once more!

Now she was sitting, holding Leia close. Her wounded shoulder still bled sluggishly. Vader frowned, rising from his seat opposite her. Moving deftly, he fetched a wad of cloth and a small jar of bacta salve from the first aid kit.

When he approached to sit beside her, she flinched away. He stopped abruptly. The dark blush that crept up her cheeks told him it was unintentional; but she did not meet his gaze. It was obvious that she did not trust him.

_And no wonder... you tried to kill her._

"Your shoulder is still bleeding," he told her matter-of-factly. "You will receive treatment once we reach the _Exactor_, of course. But bites are prone to infection, and need to be cleaned as soon as possible."

Padme held out her hand. "Give me the bacta, then. I can do it myself."

"No, you can't. Not while you're holding Leia."

Padme's face bore a look Anakin knew well – pure determination. With a sigh, he gave up the argument and walked to the cockpit.

"You," he ordered the co-pilot, "come with me."

Padme watched with guarded curiosity as Vader returned with the soldier in tow.

"You are competent at field medicine?" Vader demanded shortly.

"Of course, my Lord," replied the man.

Vader directed his gaze at Padme. "If you will not let me treat you, will you permit one of my men?"

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded her consent.

To the pilot, Vader commanded, "The wound on her shoulder. She was bitten, and it needs cleaning."

The man nodded. "'At once, my Lord." Snapping a salute, he slid onto the seat beside Padme. Clearly aware of Vader's watchful eye on him, he kept his gaze focussed on his patient. "This may hurt, ma'am," he warned her. Everything that had passed so far told him that she was Someone Important, despite her ragged dress.

At her nod, he swiped some bacta onto the cloth, then very gently pressed it to the wound.

True to the man's warning, it stung. A sharp hiss of breath and a slight clenching of her hands – both involuntary – were Padme's only reactions. But Leia complained vocally at the sudden pressure.

The pilot hesitated, pulling away slightly, unsure of what to do. The woman was rocking her body in an attempt to calm the child, which would make treating her wound more difficult.

He would scarcely have credited what happened next if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

Vader dropped to one knee, putting himself on the same level as the seated woman, and reached out his hands. The woman froze, eyes widening, as she stared at him. It seemed almost as if a form of silent communication passed between the pair, because the woman gave the slightest of nods, and passed the child into the Sith's hands.

She continued to gaze anxiously as Vader stood, settling the infant against his chest, a surprisingly gentle hand caressing the dark curls.

He knew he was staring, but the pilot couldn't tear his eyes away. The tenderness Vader was displaying was incredible.

But that was not the most astonishing thing, he found. In Vader's arms, the child's crying eased, and she soon lay peacefully. A tiny hand began waving at the array of flashing lights on the Dark Lord's chest.

Padme stared at Vader. He was so gentle, so tender as he held Leia. He was enchanted by her; he _loved _her. She swallowed back tears as she was struck by an unexpected thought.

_Ani would have made such a good father._

She was forced to close her eyes against the tears.

The pilot, wary of attracting his lord's wrath, forced himself into action. Resuming his ministrations, he studied his patient. She was exquisitely beautiful, with porcelain skin and cascading mahogany curls. But she had an air of infinite sadness about her as she gazed at Vader and her baby with soulful eyes.

_Sadness, _the pilot mused, _but not fear? She trusts that Lord Vader won't hurt the child. But she doesn't trust him – Vader said wouldn't _allow _him – to treat her wound..._

Quite firmly, he clamped down on that train of thought. He wasn't quite sure if the rumours that Vader could read minds were true, but all the same, he'd rather not take chances.

Swiftly, he finished cleaning the wound. "I won't bandage it, ma'am. We'll be back at the ship shortly, and I'm sure the medics are going to look at it."

The beautiful lady favoured him with a wan smile and he suddenly felt like a schoolboy with a crush.

_Oh, damn. This can't be good..._

Standing and turning away, he saluted Vader. The Sith looked up, and acknowledged him with a nod. As the black-gloved hand paused in its gentle stroking of her hair, Leia pounced, catching one of the fingers in her little fist. Vader's attention was drawn to her once more as the she drew it into her mouth.

_Oh, stars..._ he thought, as he beat a hasty retreat to the cockpit. _No one's gonna believe this..._


End file.
